


Payment in Kind

by Fyre



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: M/M, Male Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 09:59:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumpelstiltskin and Jefferson have an arrangement. Some arrangements shouldn't really be trifled with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Payment in Kind

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Rufeepeach.

The crystals were useless, the wrong type entirely for scrying across worlds, which meant that the Realm Jumper had to be summoned once more. 

He was a dashing creature, reckless, bold, and all the things that Rumpelstiltskin presently admired. He also knew exactly what he wanted by way of payment, and that, Rumpelstiltskin was more than happy to accommodate.

“What now?” he inquired as he draped himself on the couch.

Rumpelstiltskin tossed one of the shards of crystal to him. “Tell me, dearie, what do you see?”

“Sparkly rock?” Jefferson said, examining the shard.

“Quite so, quite so.” Rumpelstiltskin twitched his fingers and the shard leapt back to his hand. “I believe this is from the world you went to for me, the world with seeing stones, as I recall.”

Jefferson rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes,” he said, “that one. Did I mention how tedious that was?”

“Tedious or not, you didn’t fetch me what I wanted.”

The Realm Jumper’s expression darkened and he pushed himself to his feet, his delicate pride bruised. “You told me to find you the rocks protected by the keepers of the tombs,” he said. He jerked a finger at the rock in Rumpelstiltskin’s hand. “That would be it.”

Rumpelstiltskin wrinkled his nose. “And yet, it doesn’t do what it should.” He grinned with humour. “Care to explain, dearie?”

“How about your magic isn’t enough?” Jefferson said, raising his eyebrows. “I’d say that covers it.”

Rumpelstiltskin snapped his fingers and the young man was instantly bound. “How about now, dearie?”

Jefferson snorted. “Oh please,” he said, uncaring. “You think I haven’t been tied up before? And you know I’m right. Every world’s magic is different, and maybe, this kind if the kind that’s out of your range.” He leaned forward as much as the magical bonds would allow. “But I have other worlds I can drop into for you.”

Another snap of Rumpelstiltskin’s fingers released him. 

“You’ll find a world with scrying crystals that work, dearie, or I’ll be terribly disappointed.”

Jefferson grinned at him. “What do I get for it?”

“The usual price,” Rumpelstiltskin said, waving vaguely towards the pile of growing gold at his wheel. 

Jefferson surveyed the pile, then looked at Rumpelstiltskin. “I have enough gold for now,” he said. “I want something more interesting.”

That brought Rumpelstiltskin up short. “What kind of… interesting, dearie?”

All at once, the Realm Jumper was in front of him. “I want to see if the stories are true.” The man was practically purring.

Rumpelstiltskin narrowed his eyes. “They most assuredly are.”

“Even…”

Rumpelstiltskin’s breath hissed between his teeth as Jefferson pressed his broad hand against the front of Rumpelstiltskin’s breeches. He was too surprised to swat the insolent boy away, surprised enough that his body twitched in remembrance at the long-forgotten sensation of human contact.

Jefferson’s eyes were on his face and he moved his hand. He looked wary. He looked like he might bolt at any moment, as if he realised that if he had gone to far, his head would roll, but he was brave enough to wait until the beast roared.

“Why that, dearie?” Rumpelstiltskin’s voice sounded like a stranger’s in his own ears, somehow deeper, darker, more dangerous. That, as much as the youth’s hand, stirred up his blood. It had been a long time since someone had defied him and needed to be reminded who was in control. “There are thousands of stories and you choose that?”

Jefferson’s lips drew back from his teeth in a white cat’s grin. “Curiosity.”

Rumpelstiltskin spread his hand over Jefferson’s, holding it hard in place against the laces of his trousers. “Didn’t you hear, dearie? It killed the cat.”

The grin only widened. “But what a way to go.”

Rumpelstiltskin raised his other hand, twisting his fingers into Jefferson’s cravat. “Your grave, boy,” he said, then jerked Jefferson’s head down and claimed his mouth with a brutal kiss. His other hand slid to Jefferson’s wrist.

For all the years without, the memories came back easily enough.

He had never been skilled, but what he lacked in skill, he made up for in voracity, and Jefferson made a demanding, urgent sound against his mouth. Rumpelstiltskin drew back, breathing hard, staring at the boy’s wild eyes. Jefferson was flushed, lips swollen.

“That all you’ve got?” he breathed, that grin still playing on his lips. 

Rumpelstiltskin twisted his hand tighter into Jefferson’s cravat and jerked him down mercilessly. Jefferson fell onto one knee, baring his teeth, which earned a low growl from Rumpelstiltskin. “You started this little game, boy,” he said. “Show me what you’re bringing to the table before we go any further.”

Jefferson looked up at him. “You’ll have to let go of my cravat,” he said.

Rumpelstiltskin’s lips drew back from his teeth. “I think not, boy,” he murmured, though he did concede to pulling it to one side, holding the boy at bay like a hound. “Show me what use that mouth can be put to, because it’s wasted on talking.”

Jefferson wrinkled his nose and smirked. The hand on Rumpelstiltskin’s stays was moving deftly. He might have been a terrible sorcerer and alchemist, but the boy was a stellar thief and had the light fingers to show for it. His other hand was braced on Rumpelstiltskin’s hip and he looked up with smug satisfaction when he freed Rumpelstiltskin from the confines of his breeches.

“Looks like you’re ready to play already, old man.”

Rumpelstiltskin’s upper lip twitched back from his teeth and a low growl soughed from deep within his chest. “Your mouth, boy,” he snarled. “Make use of it.”

Jefferson laughed with cheerful insolence, making a show of licking his lips.

Rumpelstiltskin stumbled back a step, until he was braced against the edge of the worktable when Jefferson’s hot mouth touched him. It had been a long time. Too long. Even magic wasn’t enough to keep that from showing.

His breathing was growing ragged, and he curled his fingers along the edge of the table, tearing splinters into his skin as Jefferson moved with tongue and teeth and lips. The hands that shouldn’t have come into play were. They had slid over Rumpelstiltskin’s hips and long, strong fingers were kneading at Rumpelstiltskin’s arse through the tight leather of his breeches.

“Enough,” he panted out raggedly when he was close, too close. The boy didn’t heed him, not until Rumpelstiltskin twisted his hand into that damned cravat and pulled tight enough to catch his breath. “Enough,” he repeated.

Jefferson dragged one hand back from Rumpelstiltskin’s hips, smearing at his mouth with the back of his palm. He was still grinning, and wiped each corner of his mouth with a fingertip that he then slid between his lips and sucked clean.

Rumpelstiltskin’s breath was rasping as he watched him.

“Your move,” Jefferson said, looking up at him. 

Rumpelstiltskin took a long, hard breath and jerked Jefferson back to his feet. His mouth slid over the other man’s tasting briefly, but not possessing this time. Jefferson took it as invitation and darted his tongue greedily. Rumpelstiltskin loosened his hand in the cravat. Let the boy think the game was changing.

The moment Jefferson’s hand tangled into his hair, Rumpelstiltskin had the boy’s wrist and with a twist, had him pinned over the table, sending vials and jars scattering across the floor, shattering on stone. He pinned Jefferson there with his own body, his hands pinning Jefferson’s wrists to the table. 

“Now, now, dearie,” he growled close to Jefferson’s ear. “My house, my rules.” He pressed his hips forward, against Jefferson’s backside, breath hissing through his teeth at the rub of coarse fabric and leather against his bare skin. “You have to do as you’re told.”

“If you say so.” Jefferson groaned, pushing back against him in a way that made Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes roll in his head. Gods, it had been far too long.

A jerk of Rumpelstiltskin’s head bound Jefferson’s wrists to the table, leaving his own hands free to tug Jefferson’s coat up between them. The damned boy wasn’t making things easier, rocking his hips back with every handful of coat that was pulled between them.

“You’d make tavern wenches blush with this behaviour,” Rumpelstiltskin growled as his cock slid against the tight leather of Jefferson’s breeches.

“Oh, trust me, I have,” Jefferson purred, rolling his shoulders.

Rumpelstiltskin caught the boy’s hips, holding him still. “My rules, remember, dearie,” he whispered, pressing over Jefferson’s back, until their was barely a breath between them. He slid one hand down to the front of Jefferson’s breeches, only hesitating for a moment before tugging at the stays.

When his fingers slipped between leather and flesh, he only faltered for a moment. This was outside of his experience, even his mortal experience, but Jefferson eased matters by groaning in satisfaction and pushing into his hand.

Rumpelstiltskin’s hand closed tight around Jefferson’s cock. “None of that, my boy,” he growled, low and dangerous against Jefferson’s ear. “My house. My rules.” He bit the boy’s lobe sharply, then darted his tongue. “My price, dearie.”

Jefferson’s breath hitched. “Gods, yes,” he hissed, which only made Rumpelstiltskin squeeze tighter, until Jefferson whimpered and stayed still.

“Good boy,” he breathed. “Remember who you’re dealing with.” His other hand tugged Jefferson’s breeches down, his claws dragging against bared flesh, earning another of those mewling whimpers that Jefferson made so beautifully. He dragged his hand up and down once around Jefferson’s cock, drawing a whine of hunger from the boy’s throat. “Patience, dearie,” he murmured, his lips brushing the boy’s ear. “Do you want kindness or cruelty?”

It seemed that in some matters, Jefferson was not so daring.

“Kindness,” he panted out. “Can’t jump with an ass on fire.”

It was only fortunate that there were still some vials left on the table, though Rumpelstiltskin deliberated only a moment too long over whether to use the fireice. It would have been gentle, at least fifty percent of the time. Then again, he did have to put his flesh into contact with it too.

Some pungent oil replaced it, and he bared his teeth as he flicked the cork from the vial with his thumbnail and trickled the ice-cold liquid onto the boy’s flesh. Jefferson yelped, squirming, until Rumpelstiltskin pinned him still with one hand on his shoulder. 

“You asked for gentleness,” he reminded him with a mocking little chuckle. “You never said anything about warm.” He returned his hand to the oil, grateful Jefferson couldn’t see his expression as he hesitated then slid his slick fingertips against the younger man’s arse.

From the small, pleased sounds Jefferson was making, he wasn’t new to this, not even when one finger became two became three. Rumpelstiltskin drew his hand free. He didn’t like the realm jumper much. He didn’t even particularly find him attractive, but the sounds he was making were begging for him to be broken and pleading and Rumpelstiltskin liked broken and pleading. 

He pinned Jefferson down again, hard enough to make the realm jumper grunt in pain, and pressed against him. “You might want to hold on, dearie,” he growled, before thrusting hard enough to knock Jefferson’s hips against the edge of the table.

Jefferson gave a sharp cry, but didn’t pull away. Gods, no. He made matters worse - or better - by pushing back, pushing harder, until Rumpelstiltskin was buried as deep as he could be, his fingers digging hard into Jefferson’s shoulder. His breaths were hot and rapid against Jefferson’s ear, his teeth bared. 

“Arrogant little bastard,” he whispered, rigid and motionless.

Jefferson laughed hoarsely. “Well, I got what I wanted.”

Rumpelstiltskin growled, his hand jerking from Jefferson’s shoulder to his head, holding his head down as he pulled back and drove into him again. Jefferson’s body jolted hard with every savage thrust, but between the sharp grunts of pain, he was laughing, and that infuriated Rumpelstiltskin. He didn’t even care for Jefferson’s pleasure or pain any more, his other hand freeing Jefferson’s cock to pin the man’s shoulder, squeezing so hard that fabric tore and claws met flesh, and he thrust over and over and over.

Jefferson’s hands were scrabbling at the edge of the table for purchase, his feet skittering on the floor with the force of Rumpelstiltskin’s movement, and Rumpelstiltskin didn’t stop, not until Jefferson gave a small, low cry and arched his neck against Rumpelstiltskin’s restraining hand and Rumpelstiltskin, blood surging in his ears, bit hard on his throat.

Jefferson screamed, and that was enough and Rumpelstiltskin slammed hard, once, twice, three times and was still, shuddering, panting, claws sunk into Jefferson’s shoulder, fingers twisted into his hair.

Long moments passed and they were motionless, soundless, save for ragged breaths.

“Y’know,” Jefferson wheezed raggedly, “next time, I’ll take the gold.”


End file.
